Seven Days of Smut 4: Thoughtless Thursday
by Sinister Scribe
Summary: Fourth in the series. An ajoining piece to 'Halfwit'. Hope you like. As always, adult themes language and dogma going on here. You don't like, you don't read. Izat simple.


**Okay, a wee shortie just to prove that I haven't forgotten about this series. Again, still appealing for inspiration for 'The Inspirationals' (and no the irony is not lost on me). **

**Okay, about the last chappie of 'Temporary Insanity' I meant to say this there but I totally stole the Vegas wedding thing from Eleanor J ::squirms in shame:: but, moving on. I don't think this is the best one in the series but I just wanted the damn thing out of the way so I can get to writing 'Forbidden Friday' which will be HAWT!! Can we say, no tan lines? Can we say improper use of coconut body oil? Can we say a bitty of a House strip tease just for Cuddy? **

**Damn fucking right we can. **

**::bobs eyebrows lasciviously::**

**Anyway, this chapter is about the reaction to episode 3X15 (I think) 'Halfwit' if you haven't seen that episode, don't read this. I think they're reactions were a bit blasé since it was just House. Well ex-squeeze the feck outta me! but that's a mean thing to pull on anybody I don't care how freaking brilliant you think you are!!**

**So here's Cuddy's reaction at least. **

**Read, review and enjoy. **

**(though not necessarily in that order) **

**Thoughtless Thursday**

House sat by his baby grand and let his fingers play gently over the keys. He didn't want to, but his fingers kept on repeating that same piece. That same unfinished composition that a guy with a fifty five point IQ had managed to finish. Turn into an effortless masterpiece. Not just good, but perfect. He scowled slightly as he deliberately switched to another song, something different, something fresh and new, something he had never played before. He found thoughts of her drifting through his head as he let his hands dance by themselves in a fusion of jazz and classic notes. He imagined the way she would dance to this if she ever heard it. Imagined the way that soft smile might curl her lips, her eyes might flutter closed and her head dip forward, her hair curtaining dark around her face as she absorbed music hat he was making for her.

He sighed suddenly, losing the taste for tormenting himself like this. Silence echoed throughout the room as if it were surprised at the lack of sound. The lid snapped shut with a soft click and he grimaced as he realised that most of the scotch bottle was empty again.

Thunder rumbled suddenly overhead and House looked up in vague surprise. He hadn't even realised it was raining. Leaning over from his stool, he whipped the curtain aside and looked out to see sheets of rain lashing down onto the street outside. Jeez, not just raining but _raining. _

The sun was just setting and he could make it out a smear of golden red over the top of the blocky New Jersey horizon through the silver sheets of falling water. Big fat rain drops that splattered down onto the sidewalk, causing small rivers to course down the side of the road towards the storm drains. He tilted his head, content to watch for a moment as his mind mulled over what Wilson had told him. He didn't really remember the exact words but the gist had been that he needed more human contact before he completely self-destructed.

He had to admit that pretending he had brain cancer was a new low for him…but he couldn't really muster the will to care. It was just him, he was alone, what did it really matter if he self destructed? His head dipped forward, ignoring even the depressing sight of the rain in favour of looking at the downpour inside his own head. Maybe he should go out, maybe he should give this whole human interaction thing a chance…maybe just not with Wilson. He didn't feel like the seminar at the moment.

Thunder rumbled once more and he idly wondered who might be out on a night like this as lightening flashed almost immediately afterward. So bright and harsh that it lit up the entire night sky for a moment.

The thunder was echoed by a sudden hammering at his door.

He frowned and lurched to his feet. Wincing as his leg gave a grumbling protest, he'd left his cane on the other side of the room but the fuzz of alcohol and vicodin was enough to tide him over to the door. He fumbled the lock open and then threw it open.

Upon seeing the person on the other side he nearly slammed the door shut again.

That was, until the details of her appearance caught up with him.

Cuddy stood before him, soaked to the skin. Her hair was bedraggled and soaked into shining damp curls that clung to her face and shoulders, her face had long ago been washed clean of any trace of make up, her cashmere coat was sodden and hung heavily from her small frame. Her lips were parted and droplets of rain clung to them and to the sooty lashes that framed her eyes. Eyes that were blazing with distilled rage.

"Cuddy." He greeted her, slightly surprised.

He didn't even see her move before her fist slammed into his jaw.

Pain flashed white hot and shocking over his face. He fell back on a curse and slapped to the floor.

"You bastard!" She greeted him in return and stepped over him, slamming the door shut and dripping water all over his floor.

House lay on the floor, looking up at her and clutching his jaw. He'd forgotten that she had such a good right hook. He was going to hurt tomorrow. Hell, he was hurting now.

"I take it this isn't a social visit?" He mumbled around his tender jaw. She'd hit him square on the chin, snapping his head back and pulling at his neck with a burn of tugged muscles. He tried to rise but his body had other idea and told him to stay exactly where he was. Maybe if he made no sudden moves then she might just blow all this out and get over it quicker.

"I can't believe you! I mean, I know you're a crazy son of a bitch but I thought there was even a line you wouldn't cross." She seemed to be completely powered by her anger now. She strode angrily about his living room. Her coat billowing and slapping wetly, scattering second hand rain all over the room without a care for it. "But stealing a patient's file and sending off to another hospital for the treatment, not because you were actually ill but because you're such a sorry misanthropic bastard that's so afraid of real life you'd rather get high than have an actual conversation!" She wasn't exactly yelling and House felt that this made her all the more frightening. Even after she had hit him, even after he had thought she'd lost control, she was still in the driving seat.

"Cuddy…" He began but trailed off. What could he say?

"Did you enjoy it?"

"What?"

"Did you enjoy watching me and Wilson and all your team hurting over the fact that you were going to die? Did it give you some kind of sick pleasure? Or was it all some elaborate test, to see how we'd react?"

House edged to the hallway table and used it to haul himself to his feet. She didn't help him and, for the first time, he felt bereft of that contact. Contact that he had never wanted but had drawn comfort from whenever she unhesitatingly offered it. He wondered if he was never going to see that again. It came as a slight surprise to him when he realised that he didn't want to lose that. "I wasn't actually dying…" He began and she exploded at him.

"I didn't know that!" She was really beginning to lose it now. Her hands shook, her limbs trembled as she shivered in rage. The sheer power of her feelings rioting through her like the storm was whirling outside. Lightening flashed outside over the echo of thunder and he saw it reflected in her eyes. "I thought you were going to die. I thought I was never going to see you again! I thought that I was going to lose you!"

She shook for a moment and then suddenly demanded. "Why?"

"What?"

"Why did you do it? It wasn't just to get high. You could probably come up with thousands of cocktails to give yourself any number of trips. Why do it this way?"

"It was…clinical." He finally settled on and her head tilted back as if in sudden understanding. "Who would miss me anyway?" He demanded suddenly trying to get angry but just too damn tired of it all to manage it.

Her hand slapped his chest as she got right up in his face. "I would!" She hit him again. "God damn you! Why can you never see it?!" She fisted both hands and thudded them violently against his chest. He just stood there, welcoming the contact. It was oddly fitting how whenever he got close to someone they always ended up hurting him. "Some people just…" All the fight seemed to suddenly bleed out of her and her head came forward, resting against his chest. She sighed and her breath was warm against him. Her hands were fisted in his tee shirt and she looked like she needed to hold onto that in order to stay upright. "Want to be with you, if you'd only let them." She finished quietly, muffled against his shirt. He looked down at her, surprise washing through him.

"Nobody wants to be with me, I hurt everyone I care about." He spoke quietly, but his hands were moving despite his words. Sliding down her arms, over her back and pulled her tightly against his chest, resting his cheek on her hair and murmuring quietly. "I don't want to hurt you." He admitted slowly and a cavernous sigh gusted from between her lips, slumping her shoulders.

She lifted her head slowly and met his eyes with a flat intent behind her gaze. "You're hurting me now." She almost whispered and he rocked back from her slightly. "We're not even…but it still hurts." She told him.

He just looked down at her. He didn't know what to say to that. This was his chance to come in with a witty comeback and puncture the bubble of seriousness that had enveloped them…but he couldn't come up with anything sharp enough.

"So, what's the point, hmm?" She said brokenly and something wrenched hard inside his chest at the slump of defeat in her spine. "All this denial. All this distancing and it still hurts like you'd slapped me across the face."

"I didn't mean for it to hurt you. I'm a selfish bastard. I know that. Why do you think I try and stay away from you?!" He was angry now. Pulling away from her and limping away. It didn't help, none of it helped. He was trying and trying to find some kind of relief, anything that would offer a port in the constant storm and nothing was forth coming. The thought that he was so utterly alone echoed sharply in his head and even as he sneered at himself internally for being so pathetic and afraid of being alone. But there it was. He didn't want to be. Not any more.

"So this is all for my benefit?" God, how had they ended up talking like this? She supposed she shouldn't have hit him but, damn her, it had felt good to finally show him how she felt. Even if it had been a violent loss of control. She supposed she should be glad that they were finally actually having this conversation after dancing around it for so long.

"No! Yes…I don't know. What are we doing?"

"Nothing! That's the problem!" She nearly screamed at him and tried to remain in control. If she lost it again he'd just dismiss her as being a hysterical female and they'd be back where they started. She stepped towards him and shoved his chest again. "You keep running away from everything! From me, from Wilson, even from your team. We care about you and you don't even seem to notice."

"I notice!" He snapped and threw his arm wide as if to show it. "You think I can't see how you hurt every time I say something stupid? You think I like making you feel that? I'm broken, Lisa, I always have been. I don't know what the hell you want from me!"

They were standing barely inches apart now. Their chest heaving and she stared at him incredulously. "How can you not know? You're a freaking genius and you still don't get it."

"Get _what!?"_

"This, you idiot." She reached up and pulled his mouth down over hers. At first, the kiss was gentle. Nothing more than the warm press of her lips against his. Then the fire ignited, she pushed up towards him on a moan and her tongue slid into his mouth to tangle with his. His arms tightened around her, part of his brain screamed that this wasn't right, that she shouldn't be trapped with him but he switched it off. There was no time or space for thinking anymore, he was running on instinct and adrenaline and if she happened to regret this in the morning then he would deal with that then.

Her nails scraped over his shoulders and the tiny pinpricks of pain were a delicious topping to an already layered cake of sensation. The back of his knees hit the butter soft leather of his couch and they both clattered down onto it, never once breaking the kiss. She yanked at his tee shirt, pulling it insistently up and over his head. Her coat was thrown over the coffee table in a sodden drape of soggy fabric, her almost transparent shirt followed it and he took a momentary distraction in tasting every curve that was revealed to him.

"Never scare me like that again." She told him, her hands unsnapping his jeans and shoving them down so she could wrap her hands around his aching cock. He gasped and twisted his hips.

"Yes! I mean, um, no?" He didn't know what he was supposed to be agreeing to anymore, he just wanted her to keep moving against him.

She laughed against his mouth in another searing kiss. Obviously she had forgiven him, and judging by the way she was pressing soft butterfly kisses against the bruise on his chin. She moved away from him only to yank his jeans off and away, she didn't want anything else between them. Her hands went to the zipper of her skirt and that was off in a rush of breath and a pooling of expensive fabric on the floor. He reached for her as she straddled him and had never felt more glad than when he could wrap his arms around her and pretend he never had to let go.

He tilted them both and pushed her down onto the sofa, sliding up against her cool skin, still damp from the rain, soon to be warmed though. He would see to that. Taking immense care and trying his patience to the max, he peeled the silky fabric of her bra away from her lush curves. His fingers shook as he fumbled the clasp. Any suave sophistication he thought he might have had went out the window when she was near naked in his arms. He kissed her soft lips, nipped her throat and inched his mouth lower over the heaving curve of her breast. Her back arched and she cried out wordlessly for him when his tongue swirled around her nipple. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she held him closer to her. His fingers tangled in the ribbon band of her thong high on her hip and he grinned against her skin when it snapped. He slid that offensive garment from her as well and lowered the full length of his body flush against hers.

She gasped against him and arched her back so that they were pressed tighter together. She writhed against him and he smiled down at her, enjoying teasing her but knowing she wouldn't stand it for long. She didn't talk, neither did he. They didn't need the words anymore, they didn't need the cluttering of thoughts milling about in their heads. They just needed each other for now and that was good enough. Her legs slid over his hips and cinched tight. He groaned. More than good enough.

He met and held her gaze as he pushed into her. She whimpered and cupped his face between her hands, like she needed to assure herself that he was really there with her. That this was finally happening. His back bowed and a shiver ran through him. Air came in short sharp gasps and her hands smoothed over his shoulders to sooth him or just because she wanted to keep touching him.

He rocked over her and she cried out sharply, her hips twisting up against his in a delicious counterpoint of movement. Pleasure washed through him like he was swimming in it. It streamed through his veins, lit up his insides like a Christmas tree and bloomed inside his head like a lotus flower.

"You ready?" He felt he should ask her because he was on the verge of losing it.

She laughed then. "For longer than you'd think possible." She grinned up at him and he smirked back down at her and lunged forward in one slamming movement. Her orgasm tore through her like ten thousand volts, she screamed and trembled with it.

God, he wanted to do that again.

He braced on hand on the arm of the couch and angled his hips a new way against hers. She whimpered, not sure she was up for this, but he set about convincing her anyway. They rocked together and clashed like the thunderheads still roiling outside. House gritted his teeth against the firing sensations rocketing up his spine, they were so intense they bordered on pain. Delicious fiery, pre-orgasmic pain that just hurt too damn good.

"Harder." She urged him. Her voice rough in his ear and her hands gripping his shoulder to try and ground herself. He chuckled darkly then and pushed them both higher. Up and up and up until they were both tumbling over the edge together.

It came to him, much later, as they lay together in his big bed, that he didn't have to be alone anymore, not if he didn't want to be.

**Ra End**


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